


Of monsters and men

by Km2c



Category: Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Comfort/Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-21 01:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2450126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Km2c/pseuds/Km2c
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shot, follows up on the events of “Vampires, Scones and Edmund Herondale”: Will's mother Linette is waiting anxiously for the return of her fiancé...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of monsters and men

Linette was getting more nervous by the second. Where was he? He should have been here two hours ago. Were they not going to let him go? Had they have him locked up somewhere? Or had he changed his mind in the end? Her heart clenched painfully at the thought. For what felt like the umpteenth time, she stood up and went back to the window to peer out into the night.

“Rhoi’r gorau i wneud i mi boeni,” she murmured softly.

The gas-lit street lights did little to illuminate the area. A few pedestrians still hurried along the pavements. None of their silhouettes matched his though. She would know. The young woman was fairly certain she could draw him with her eyes closed by now. His angelic features, his smile as radiant as the sun, his eyes that held the promise of heaven, they had burned themselves into her memory.

Linette bit her lip, trying to reign in her longing. This wasn’t her. She was the one men longed for. She was the one to be admired, had always been, even as a child. People had told her countless times how beautiful she was, how her eyes were the color of pansies and her lips the color of roses. Frankly, she was sick of hearing it. But Edmund… when he had looked at her like she was the only star in the sky, she had been… pleased. When he had caught up with her riding on Rotten Row in Hyde Park, she had noticed the looks he had received from other women, though he had seemed utterly ignorant of them, his focus on her only. Linette still couldn’t believe the nerve some of them had – nearly undressing him with their stares. She’d had to fight down to urge to strike out again with her bonnet. Instead she had resorted to giving them a death glare that had them eventually turning back to their sisters, chaperones … and husbands. She snorted. Rotten Row indeed. Whoever had come up with it couldn’t have found a more appropriate street name for London high society’s favorite thoroughfare. 

“Miss Linette?”

She was dragged from her memories by her abigail standing in the doorway, giving her a pitying look. “No word of him yet?”

Linette gritted her teeth. She knew Angharad was dubious about the young gentleman’s intentions toward her mistress - mainly because his knowledge of common manners, or total lack thereof, did not leave her with a good impression of him. Angharad just did not comprehend that he hailed from a whole other world, where matters were handled quite differently from what he called the “mundane” way.

Planting a smile on her face that hopefully did not look as false as she feared it would, she turned towards her abigail and announced in a deliberately cheerful voice: “Not yet, I imagine him brooding on how to fit all of his weapons in his trunk.”

Angharad did not laugh. She rather looked alarmed, doubtless recalling their first night in London when he had saved them from a hideous fate. “Is he a military officer?”

“I suppose you could say that, though his unit seems to combat the supernatural rather than the Indians.”

Angharad shuddered. Linette could hardly blame her. Fairies were one matter, but according to Edmund, all the stories were true. Vampires, werewolves, demons – all those creatures were real. It seemed madness that one would deliberately go after them.

“But if we Nephilim would not hunt them,” she recalled him saying “they would multiply and feast upon this world and its inhabitants until there would be nothing left but death and destruction making it as empty as theirs.” Fairies and vampires and werewolves and warlocks (apparently sorcerers could not do magic on their own unless they made a deal with a demon lord) were at least part human, but demons did not have souls. They could not create, only destroy. They could not produce, only use up what others had made. They were parasites, leeching onto something alive until it died and then moving on. The thought was disturbing.

Once more she felt guilty for keeping him from his calling, just so she could fulfill hers. It seemed like she was stealing an angel out of heaven. She wondered, not for the first time, whether she was doing the right thing. The way he had fought that night, the way he had talked about it and the duty of the Nephilim afterwards… it was obvious he loved shadowhunting. Still, he loved her more. The Nephilim law did not allow relationships between their own people and ordinary human beings. He was willing to change his whole life though, to become human, just so he could be with her. And she wanted him to. It was utterly selfish of her, but the need to keep him near her, to keep him safe, overrode any guilt she felt. Shadowhunters did not live a long life. They died and went missing all the time. The idea of him going out to slay those vicious creatures every night, the risk of him not returning in the morning, of their future children losing their father before they were able to walk, it had her gut twisting with fear. No, she thought, no I will not let this happen. Determined she snatched her cloak from a nearby chair and made for the door.

“Miss?” Angharad looked at her worried.

“Angharad, please tell Connor to get the carriage ready. I am going to pay Mr Herondale a call.”

“But Miss,” Angharad started to protest weakly. Society rules deemed it was not proper for a Lady of her rank to see a gentleman this late without a chaperone. Great aunt Caroline would be appalled. Better not to let either of them know that Edmund had come seeing her several times already sneaking in through the window at nighttime.

“Miss Owens!” The sudden cry of her great-aunts butler echoed through the halls. Both women raced through the door in alarm. A sinking feeling of dread settled in Linette’s stomach. Edmund, she thought. Dear angels in heaven, please let him be fine.

Abandoning her cloak somewhere on the floor, she dashed into the hallway, Angharad hot on her heels. “Ethan?” She had reached the first landing and came to a sudden halt. Edmund was standing in the foyer, looking like a child that been brutally chastised. His usually graceful movements were stiff and slow as he turned to look up at her. His pretty blue eyes had turned into an ocean of pain.

“Edmund,” she whispered, horrified.

He opened his mouth, perhaps in the means of saying her name, but no sound emerged. He started wobbling, as if the weight of his own body had suddenly become too much for him. That did it. She flew down the steps, mentally cursing her hindering hoop skirt, reaching him just as his knees gave out. She caught at him, sank with him to the floor, let his head rest in her lap. He looked barely conscious. “What happened?” Her voice was hoarse with emotion. He forced his eyes to remain open with visible effort, trying to focus on her face. “Lin… it is done.”

“Done?”

His breath was shallow. “I got stripped of my marks.” Seeing her confusion, he added: “They removed the gifts of the angel. I’m a mundane now.” The edge of his lip curled slightly, a far cry from his usual radiant smile.

“The Shadowhunters did this to you?” She could not believe it. At first she had thought he got attacked by one of those evil creatures lurking in the shadows, but this was worse.

Edmund gave a weak shrug. “They did what they had to do.”

He did not just say that. “They tortured you!” How could he still defend their actions?

His cold fingers curled around hers. “It was worth it,” he whispered. His eyes then closed and his body went slack in her arms.

Linette was horrified. She desperately clutched him closer to her, rocking him, caressing his pale face. How could they do this? How could they hurt one of their own so much, just because he had fallen in love with her? How could that man, that Granville Fairchild, who had raised Edmund from a child, had let this happen? Why did he not protect him?

Her eyes fell on a bag a few feet away from them. It looked heavy. She gazed at Ethan. The butler looked incredibly uncomfortable. “Was there anyone with him? Did he come by carriage or on horseback?”

“No, Miss Owens,” the butler replied awkwardly. “Mr Herondale was on his own.”

On his own. They had him tortured and then thrown out the door. He must have carried that damn bag all the way here, the heavy lifting probably worsening his condition. She felt bile rise in her throat. “Monsters,” she spat. The Nephilim were monsters!

Any doubt she had harbored of taking him away from this lot vanished in the blink of an eye. She thought of the lore she had heard about Nephilim. That they were an abomination to the Lord, the rotten fruit of angels sinning. She thought of Edmund telling her all the stories are true. She believed him. Her gaze returned to his ashen face, his prone body. He had been right. The black marks flashing like warning signals on his skin were gone, the scars left the only proof they had been there in the first place. He was human now. She had rescued him, as he had rescued her the night they met. He was hers now - hers to protect, hers to love. Linette vowed to herself that she would make him happy. They would have a wonderful wedding. She would give him a whole new world, filled with peace and happiness and love and the sound of their children’s laughter.

Edmund had warned her that the Clave could lay claim to their children. Over my dead body. Never would she let her babies be taken by those cold cruel people. The Clave could go to hell for all she cared. They would get neither her fiancé, nor any child of hers.

“Ethan, be so kind and assist me getting him into the guest room.” The butler bowed and bent down to the young man. He swiftly lifted him up and carried him upstairs. Linette rose as well, turning to face her abigail. “Angharad, please fetch the maid and have her pack our belongings.” The young woman straightened up. “I will go and have a word with great-aunt Caroline. We will leave this blasted city first thing in the morning.”


End file.
